Rachmaninov: Symphony No 3; Melodie in E; Polichinelle. NSO/Alexander Anissimov (Naxos, £4.99)
Rachmaninov's Third Symphony, written in American exile in the 1930s, is the shortest of the composer's three symphonies, though that's not always how it feels in performance. Alexander Anissimov, principal conductor elect of the NSO, has shown himself to be a musician of individuality in this piece. He doesn't go out of his way to swagger, or force himself on your attention with heart-on-sleeve postures. His approach yields up the music with an increased sense of desolation and mystery and a heightened communication of the felicities of instrumental colouring to be found in the piece. It's a challenging view that won't be to everyone's taste. The two fillers, both arrangements, are small beer.
By Michael Dervan
Karajan Edition: The Lon- don Years (EMI, mid-price)
The name of Herbert von Karajan is inevitably most closely associated with the orchestra he made so inimitably his own, the Berlin Philharmonic. Earlier in his career, from 1948 to 1960, he worked regularly with the Philharmonia (then London's leading orchestra) and its founder, the record producer Walter Legge. Three of the latest discs in EMI's Karajan Edition are devoted to Sibelius with the Philharmonia and, advantageously, show more grit and less gloss than the conductor's later Berlin recordings. If you've felt that Karajan lacked an essential vein of Sibelian severity and austerity, the 1953 performance of the Fourth Symphony should prove thoroughly enlightening. The discs I've sampled from the EMI edition also find the conductor essaying Britten, Vaughan Williams and Stravinsky (Jeu de cartes, no less), as well as some rather smoother Bartok.
By Michael Dervan
Roberto Alagna: "Verdi Arias" (EMI)
There was a time when golden-boy tenor Roberto Alagna could do no wrong: this was, as is often the case in show business, swiftly followed by a time when he seemed to do everything wrong. There is, however, little wrong with this classy selection of middle-repertoire Verdi arias. It opens with Rodolfo's blast of furious recitative from Act Two of Luisa Miller - Alagna laying claim to the larger-than-life roles which, traditionally, mark the summit of a tenor's career - but the heroics are somewhat muted thereafter, with the kinder, gentler and more familiar Alagna much in evidence, beautifully supported by Claudio Abado and the Berlin Philharmonic. Will he make a great Othello? I don't think he's quite there yet, but the palpable bitterness he brings to that character's bitter monologue is an interesting start.
By Arminta Wallace